


Across the Sea Lies Another Fate

by Flying_Potatismos



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, Insecure Eskel (The Witcher), M/M, Minor Character Death, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pillow Talk, Scars, for second chapter, gets to feel better about his
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:34:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26552926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flying_Potatismos/pseuds/Flying_Potatismos
Summary: Skellige had never seemed intriguing to Eskel, but this might give him reason to go.Now with a second chapter because I can not be stopped! Intruducing OC barkeep Filipek who has a gay awakening, or maybe he's just an ally, who knows.
Relationships: Eskel (The Witcher)/Original Character(s), Eskel (The Witcher)/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

Eskel had never been to Skellige, and the odds of ending up in bed with a skelligean man were slim at best. Yet here he was, a burly man calling himself Hagen resting his head on Eskel’s chest. It had come as a surprise that the man wished to stay the night. A warrior, the descendant of generations of barbarians, laid peacefully in bed with a witcher, the heir of a monstrous bequest. 

Eskel combed through the man’s hair with his fingers, drawing the scent of the ocean. Hagen traced a scar across Eskel’s chest with his thumb. He sighed quietly and Eskel tensed underneath him, not sure what he thought of it. Hagen rolled over and sat up on his knees, pressing his lips against the scar. To Eskel’s surprise he continued across his chest, kissing every scar he could reach. He smelled of awe. 

“You must have accomplished so much,” Hagen smiled as he sat back on his heels, his eyes continuing to wander over Eskel’s body. Eskel relaxed against the mattress. He wasn’t sure what Hagen ment, but he seemed benevolent. 

“How come?” he asked, looking up and down Hagen’s equally naked body. Hagen gave a smile, his weatherbeaten brow taking a friendly shape. 

“You have so many scars, you carry so many won battles.”

“There’s no reason to believe I won them all.” Eskel wanted to point to the scar just below his elbow, the one he had acquired as he was fleeing from an angry mob. He’d tumbled down a ravine and broken his arm. 

“Scars are proof of resilience and strength. Only those who don’t make it don’t have them. Back home...folk admire people like you,” Hagen grinned. He held out his arm to show a straight, thick scar vertically across the back of his forearm. Eskel guessed it had been caused by a sword. Either it had been awfully blunt, or whoever had swung it had been weak, otherwise there wouldn’t be an arm to look at.

“I’ve got a better shield now,” the skelligean explained with a chuckle. Eskel sat up on his elbow and pulled him close, kissing him on the mouth. He laid him down on the bed and curled up beside him, holding his face as he continued to kiss him. 

“I wish I could take you with me back home,” Hagen whispered against his lips, “I would be so proud to have you, to marry such a remarkable man.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hagen mentions Eskel to his crew, and Eskel is immediately overrun by skelligeans who want to marry him. Read the next chapter to find out more, I guess :)


	2. Epilog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter contains mild homophobia (no slurs or violence directly against lbgt characters all though lgbt characters engage in violence) and canon typical violence including minor character death. No named character is killed.
> 
> Also fuck the eternal fire.

The barkeep at the Golden Sturgeon was used to having to kick folks out in the middle of the evening. With the harbour right outside the door most of the guests were seafarers or dockhands. They were likely to get personal, in one way or another. A man came up to the bar as the barkeep was preparing the taps.

“Hey, Filipek, some fellows in the back are...you know,” he said in a hushed voice. 

“I’ll toss ‘em out, don’t worry about it.” The barkeep nodded and went back to work. Once he had finished the task at hand he untied the apron around his middle and hung it over a chair nearby. Upon getting to the back of the tavern he saw the band of skelligean warriors he had served drinks and stew about an hour ago sitting around one of the long tables. The witcher who had arrived no more than a quarter ago was seated in one man’s lap, doted on by the others. He was smiling, laughing even, as one of the skelligeans’ hands found its way into his shirt. The witcher was no maiden, the barkeep had noted his large frame as he had walked in the door. Men like him always win the fight at the Golden Sturgeon, simply because the barkeep can’t wrangle them. Seated on the lap of one of the skelligeans he was the least threatening of them. The barkeep let out a sigh and went back to his duties. Not shortly after, the same man as before came up to him.

“They’re still there, Filipek,” he said, clearly annoyed. 

“As I see it they ain’t doing no harm.” The barkeep set down the mug he was cleaning. The patron leaned in closer over the bar.

“You see no problem with grown men lockin’ lips with each other? The Eternal Flame is gonna ravage this place,” he hissed before disappearing out the door. The barkeep huffed a laugh. If only that poor man knew how many times the church had attempted to have him shut down. 

He checked on the kitchen to make sure dinner could be served soon before heading back to the crowd at the long table. Approaching them, he felt an impulse to drop down on the bench with them. The witcher slid down in his own seat, the skelligean man acting as if he hadn’t just had his hand on his ass. 

“Right lads, you do me a favour and all of your drinks and food are on the house.” The barkeep crossed his arms over his chest. The men seemed enticed, looking around amongst themselves before turning back to him and nodding.

“What can we do for you?” the man at the head of the table asked. He must be the leader of the band, the oldest among them despite not being a day over thirty. 

“Keep troublemakers out. Got in an argument with some arse promising to bring the church’s militia.” The barkeep looked around the table to see their reactions. Most of them grinned, rubbing their hands and patting their sheathed swords and axes, thrilled at the prospect of a righteous fight. The witcher nodded apathetically, seemingly awaiting the barkeep’s departure. The leader gave an affirmative hum and the barkeep walked away, once again heading back to his duties. 

It didn’t take long before the door was kicked open and a phalanx of church believers entered the tavern. They shouted blasphemy at the barkeep who drew a sword from under the bar. He defended himself against a particularly homicidal crusader who jumped over the bar, before the man was cut down from behind. 

The invaders fought bravely and all thought they were preeminent in number, they were inferior in both steel and strength. The skelligean warriors came down on them in the shape of lightning, their battle cries thundering throughout the building. Some of the militiamen fleed out the door. Doing the sensible thing, the barkeep thought as he watched one of the skelligeans cleave a skull in two though the poor bastard’s helmet. The witcher’s steel sword was drawn but untainted. Despite standing ready to swing, decades of training leaving a fight like this one seeming like child’s play, he did not get the chance to join in the battle. 

An eerie silence fell over the tavern after the skillegeans stepped away from the last dead militiamen. The barkeep locked gazes with a wide-eye patron. The woman shook her head and leaned back in her chair again, taking a long drink of her ale. One of the skelligeans raised his fist and let out a victorious bawl, the others joining in. When the tavern had once again calmed down, the witcher ordered them a round of ale as the pall-bearers arrived. No one seemed to grieve the three dead militiamen. 

Not even a week after the incident, a note appeared on the harbourside notice board: 

Most honorable novigradians, on behalf of the owner the Golden Sturgeon will from here on be open to any man seeking the company of other men and any woman seeking the company of other women. Elves, dwarves, halflings and other non-humans will be treated with respect by other customers. Anyone who wishes to voice a different opinion can freely do so. Owner takes no responsibility for bodily harm acquired as a result of customers' actions. 

\- Filipek, owner and barkeep at the Golden Sturgeon

**Author's Note:**

> Hagen mentions Eskel to his crew, and Eskel is immediately overrun by skelligeans who want to marry him. Read the next chapter to find out more, I guess :)


End file.
